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PS 

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eAnd ®tl7er Verses 



FOR gHIIilDREM 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 

mmu (Sap^nglt Ifa.. 

Shelf./S..'t.S 7 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



SUNSHINE 



OTHER VERSES FOR CHILDREN 



KATHARINE LEE BATES 

,1 




L C 



PRINTED BY THE WELLESLEY ALUMN.E FOR THE 
BENEFIT OF THE 

NORUMBEGA FUND 
1890 



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Copyright, 1S90, 
By KATHARINE LEE BATES. 



BOSTON : 

PRINTED BY FRANK WOOD, 
WASHINGTON STREET. 



DEDICATED 

TO 

ALMA MATER'S GRANDCHILDREN. 



But first this whisper in jour ears : 

Fm such a foolish book. 
Read tne in a corner^ dears, 

Atid don't let Gra?idma look. 




CONTENTS. 



PART I 



Sunshine . 
Vacation Song 
In Refuge 
A Song of Riches 
The Rivulet . 
Robin's Secret 
On a Ramble . 
Phoebe 

Little Shadowtail 
Nutting Song . 
Baby Beth 
Baby's Baggage 
The Secret 
Grandfather's Story 
Idleness . 
Fair Weather . 



PAGE 

3 

7- 
8 

lO 

II 
13 

i6 

17 

19 
20 
21 

22 

23 

27 
28 



PART II. 



Santa Claus' Riddle 
Goody Santa Claus 
Slumber Fairies 
Fairy Guesses . 



33 
38 

47 
49 



vi CONTENTS. 








Fairy's Lullaby ...... 50 


Fairy Rip van Winkle 






51 


The Wishing-Cap . 






53 


Baby Hazel's Voyage 






. 56 


Wide Awake and Fast Asleep 






57 


The Sun out of Temper . 






58 


The Little Knight in Green . 






60 


PART III. 


Children's Sunday 65 


Children's Hymn 










66 


Christmas Carol 










67 


Easter Lilies . 


• 








68 


Thanksgiving Night 










69 


The Empty Room . 










70 


Sandalphon's Rosebuds 










72 


The Rainbow Path . 










73 



PART I. 




SUNSHINE. 

I HE sun rode high, and the dear green 
Earth 
Was stirred in her motherly heart with 
mirth ; 
And to every blossom and dancing spray 
She gave the grace of a holiday. 

And oh ! what laughter the silver breeze 
Shook from the leaves of the poplar trees ! 
How the streamlet, with all her sweet blue eyes. 
Smiled on the sport of the dragon-flies ! 

The flashing humming-bird deeply dipped 
In the yellow tulip ; the blithe bee sipped 
From the purple, delicate cups of wine 
That he found on the morning-glory vine. 

The smaflest fly and the least red thorn 
Were fair with summer and fresh with morn, 
When who should chance on the sunlit place. 
But a little girl with a sulky face ? 



4 SUNSHINE. 

Through all the music and merriment 
She came, to trouble the world's content ; 
And wheresoever her feet did pass, 
A shadow fell on the gleaming grass. 

She leaned out over the rivulet, 

And all at once it began to fret, 

And wrinkled its waves to a frown like that 

She carried under her broad-brimmed hat. 

A carpet shaming the wealth of earls. 
Softer than satin and bright with pearls. 
She crushed, nor heeded the spider's grief, 
As he wiped his eyes on a clover-leaf. 

'Twas Saturday, after the count of men ; 
But the simple folk of meadow and glen, 
Clear of the calendar's restless freak, 
Keep seven Sabbaths in every week. 

And thus it happened that through the dells 
A soft chime floated of flower-bells. 
And the child at the roots of a tall, white birch 
Came on the worshippers all in church. 

The brook was an organ, passing sweet ; 
On the swaying bough was the choir seat ; 
And the blue, blue heaven bent close to heed 
The murmured words of the woodland creed. 



SUNSHINE. 5 

The Reverend Buttercup leaned across 
A velvet pulpit of greenest moss, 
And preached a sermon, in still, small voice, 
Whose text was ever, " Rejoice ! rejoice ! " 

"Behold," quoth he, "how our Father's care 
Hath wrought the meadow exceeding fair ; 
And my jocund heart doth overrun 
With fragrant summer and fervid sun. 

"Behold," quoth he, " though I barely fold 
In my tiny chalice a drop of gold, 
How I yet reflect and, reflecting, praise 
The sun on whom I have set my gaze. 

"Bless God," he cried, "with a sweet perfume, 
With tuneful ripple and tinted bloom, 
With dance of grasses, and faces bright, 
Bless God, the Giver of all delight ! " 

So the preacher spake, and at every line 
Nodded the listening columbine ; 
And the lady's-slipper resolved that day 
To walk henceforth in the upward way. 

The downy owlet forgot to blink ; 

The robin heard, and the bobolink, 

And the wild-briar rose, who blushed to think 

Of her thorny ways till her buds turned pink. 



6 SUNSHINE. 

A tremulous tear, like a dew-drop, wet 
The downcast eye of the violet ; 
And her prayer of trustful penitence 
Was wafted to heaven for frankincense. 

And the little lass of the pouting lip 
Smoothed, with a rosy finger-tip, 
From her tangled forehead the dreary frown, 
And hid her face in her ringlets brown. 

But she peeped from between the wind-blown 

locks 
At the clink of the contribution-box ; 
And when the squirrel came down the aisle, 
In his acorn-cup she dropped a smile. 

Then the little lass of the laughing lip 
They welcomed into their fellowship ; 
And many a daisy and clover-stem 
Kissed her foot and her garment's hem. 

And the story saith that forever more 
On her soft brown tresses the maiden wore 
A crown of sunshine this side of heaven, 
And she kept her Sabbath day all the seven. 



VACATION SONG. 



"^^^^(M. 



VACATION SONG. ^ 

HAVE shut my books and hidden my 
slate 

And tossed my satchel across the gate. 
My school is out for a season of rest, 
And now for the school-room I love the best ! 

My school-room lies on the meadow wide, 
Where under the clover the sunbeams hide, 
Where the long vines cling to the mossy bars 
And the daisies twinkle like fallen stars ; 

Where clusters of buttercups gild the scene 
Like showers of gold-dust thrown over the green. 
And the wind's flying footsteps are traced, as 

they pass. 
By the dance of the sorrel and dip of the grass. 

My lessons are written in clouds and trees, 
And no one whispers, except the breeze. 
That sometimes blows, from a secret place, 
A stray, sweet blossom against my face. 



8 IN REFUGE. 

My school-bell rings in the rippling stream, 
That hides itself, like a school-boy's dream. 
Under the shadow and out of sight. 
But laughing still for its own delight. 

My school-mates there are the birds and bees, 
And the saucy squirrel, more dull than these. 
For he only learns, in all the weeks, 
How many chestnuts will fill his cheeks. 

My teacher is patient, and never yet 
A lesson of hers did I once forget. 
For wonderful lore do her lips impart, 
And all her lessons are learned by heart. 

Oh, come ! oh, come ! or we shall be late. 
And Autumn will fasten the golden gate. 
Of all the school-rooms in east or west. 
The school of Nature I love the best. 



IN REFUGE. 

EY, for the glint of the wild-briar rose, 
In the cool, green depths of the forest ! 
And hey for the haunt that Somebody 
knows. 
When the noontide sun is sorest ! 




IN REFUGE. i 

Soft through the treetops the south wind goes, 
With footsteps learned of the clouds, suppose ; 
And playing at sentry the rose-bay glows 
Amid the ferns of the forest. 

Hey, for the glint of the wild-briar rose. 

In the cool, green depths of the forest ! 
And hey for the haunt that Somebody knows, 

When the noontide sun is sorest ! 
Over their sylvan porticoes 
Squirrels gossip with sleepy crows — 
The only birds that can talk in prose- 
Above the ferns of the forest. 

Hey, for the ghnt of the wild-briar rose. 
In the cool, green depths of the forest ! 

And hey for the haunt that Somebody knows. 
When the noontide sun is sorest ! 

The sweet-bay, crushed for a couch, bestows 

Drowsy fragrance, and virtue flows 

From the shadowy pines, till eyelids close 
Amid the ferns of the forest. 

Hey, for the ghnt of the wild-briar rose. 
In the cool, green depths of the forest ! 

And hey for the haunt that Somebody knows. 
When the noontide sun is sorest ! 

Drop your budget of cares and woes 




lO A SONG OF RICHES. 

(The wind, while you dream, will be off with 

those,) 
And come where never a thorn tree grows 
Amid the ferns of the forest. 



A SONG OF RICHES. 

HAT will you give to a barefoot lass. 
Morning with breath like wine ? 
Wade, bare feet! In my wide morass 
Starry maj'igolds shine. 



Alms, sweet Noon, for a barefoot lass, 
With her laughing looks aglow ! 

Run, baj'e feet ! In 7ny fragi'ant grass 
Golden buttercups blow. 

Gift, a gift for a barefoot lass, 
O twilight hour of dreams ! 

Rest, bare feet, by my lake of glass, 
Whe7'e the mirrored sunset gleams. 

Homeward the weary merchants pass, 
With the gold bedimmed by care. 

Little they wis that the barefoot lass 
Is the only millionaire. 



THE lUVULET. n 



THE RIVULET. 




ORNING in roseate lines 
Glimmers beyond the pines. 
Blithely the blackbird sings, 

Night on his dusky wings. 

But see ! as he flirts them so, 

'Tis the sunrise glints below, 

And the joy of breaking day 

Rings in his roundelay. 

But bolder, merrier yet. 

The song of the rivulet. 

Mine is the path to the sea. 
Bird and blossom and bee 
Wish me well as I pass. 
Rock and tangle of grass 
Fret my waves as I run. 
Still in shadow and sun 
Seaward ever I flee 
To my home in the silver sea. 

Noon in the azure sky. 
Even the twinkling fly 
Faints on the violet's lip. 
Low where the alders dip 
Over the brook and lean 
To ruffle the ripples sheen, 



12 THE RIVULET. 

A bluebird dreamily croons 
Snatches of sleepy tunes. 
But softer, drowsier yet, 
The song of the rivulet. 

Mine is the path to the sea. 
Bird and blossom and bee 
Wish me well as I pass. 
Rock and tangle of grass 
Fret my waves as I run. 
Still, in shadow and sun 
Seaward ever I flee 
To my home in the silver sea. 

Sunset flames in the west. 
Flowers are folded to rest. 
The clear-toned robins invoke 
God's peace on the woodland folk, 
While high from the ancient oak, 
Each in his scarlet cloak, 
The tanagers, sparks of fire. 
Vary the vesper choir. 
But sweeter, holier yet. 
The song of the rivulet. 

Mine is the path to the sea. 
Bird and blossom and bee 
Wish me well as I pass. 
Rock and tangle of grass 




ROBIN'S SECRET. jo 

Fret my waves as I run. 
Still in shadow and sun 
Seaward ever I flee 
To my home in the silver sea. 

ROBIN'S SECRET. 

IS the bhthest, bonniest weather for a 
bird to flirt a feather, 
For a bird to trill and warble, all his 
wee red breast a-swell. 
I've a secret. You may listen till your blue eyes 
dance and glisten, 
Little maiden, but I'll never, never, never, 
never tell. 

You'll find no more wary piper, till the straw- 
berries wax riper 
In December than in June— aha ! all up and 
down the dell. 
Where my nest is set, for certain, with a pink 
and snowy curtain, 
East or west, but which I'll never, never, 
never, never tell. 

You may prick me with a thistle, if you ever 
hear me whisde 
How my brooding mate, whose weariness my 
carols sweet dispel, 



H 



ON A RAMBLE. 



All between the clouds and clover, apple-blos- 
soms drooping over, 
Twitters low that I must never, never, never, 
never tell. 

Oh, I swear no closer fellow stains his bill in 
cherries mellow. 
Tra la la ! and tirra lirra ! I'm the jauntiest 
sentinel. 
Perched beside my jewel-casket, where lie hidden 
— don't you ask it. 
For of those three eggs I'll never,' never, 
never, never tell. 

Chirp ! chirp ! chirp ! alack ! for pity ! Who 
hath marred my merry ditty? 
Who hath stirred the scented petals, peeping 
in where robins dwell ? 
Oh, my mate ! May Heaven defend her ! 
Little maidens' hearts are tender, 
And I never, never, never, never, never jneanf 
to tell. 

ON A RAMBLE. 

OME ! come ! come ! 
Follow, lad, with me 
On behind the stirring drum 
Of Captain Bumblebee. 




ON A RAMBLE. 

Hush ! hush ! hush ! 

Finger on the hp ! 
Between the ferns a tiny thrush 

Goes running — skip, skip, skip. 

Look ! look ! look ! 

Did ever laddie see 
Softer nest in greener nook 

With birdies one, two, three ? 

Nay ! nay ! nay ! 

Curly headed thief ! 
If we steal the brood away, 

Who will heal the grief? 

Hear ! hear ! hear 

The poor brown mother's cries ! 
Now blessings on the gentle tear 

That dims my laddie's eyes ! 

Come ! come ! come ! 

Not one wee heart shad ache 
In any humblest woodland home 

For mine or laddie's sake. 



15 



1 6 PHCEBE. 




PHCEBE. 

HE sun lies sheen on lake and lea ; 
The south wind bends the corn ; 
But what are sun and wind to me, 
A captive all forlorn? 



The wind it seeks a sheltered nest, 
Where I no more may sing ; 

The sunbeams, slanting from the west, 
Have flushed a brooding wing. 

Oh, long, long, long, my faithful mate 
Shall bear the hunger-pain. 

And through the light and shadow wait 
For me to come again. 

I'll send a letter to my dear 

And tell her all my grief. 
The gentle rose, that blossoms near. 

Lets fall a fragrant leaf. 

A pearly feather from my breast 

I'll pluck me for a quill, 
And where the ruddy sunbeams rest, 

My little pen I'll fill. 



LITTLE SHADOWTAIL. 

And courteous wind, oh, waft her soon 

This silken rose-leaf white ; 
My love beneath the silver moon 

Shall con it all the night. 

And oh ! if birds, as poets ween, 
If birds have hearts to break, 

The dawn shall find my bonny queen 
Death-cold for sorrow's sake. 

And I shall sit with silent throat 
And drooping plumes, nor heed 

The childish tones that bid me note 
The water and the se»ed. 

If then my captors, touched with shame, 

Set wide this gilded cage, 
Forevermore I'll call her name 

In greenwood hermitage. 



LITTLE SHADOWTAIL. 

HERE the ancient oak droops over 
Dewy tufts of grass and clover. 
Through its blowing leafy sprays 
Sifting light in careless rays, 
Like a spendthrift dropping gold 
From his loose, regardless hold. 
Let me pause and bid all hail 
Unto little Shadowtail. 



17 




l8 LITTLE SHADOWTAIL. 

Whist ! just where the kingbird dips, 
Spreading wide the proud white tips 

Of its fanhke tail, — ^just there, 

Framed within his doorway fair. 
Buttercups before it strown. 
Cloth of gold, and overgrown 

With those curly fronds for veil, 

Sitteth little Shadowtail. 

Would no humbler mansion suit, 

But within the gnarly root 
Of this hoar, historic tree. 
Thou must gossip with the bee. 

Peering through the screening ferns 

At thy neighbors' wee concerns. 
And upon the stranger rail, 
Shrewish little Shadowtail? 

Once beneath this storied oak 

Eliot his message spoke. 

And the Red Men, clustered round, 
Knew this earth for holy ground. 

Weeping at the words divine. 

Was some curious sire of thine 
Mocking then the preacher pale 
From thy threshold, Shadowtail? 



NUTTING SONG. 1 9 

He the sermon deemed, methinks, 
Dull beside the bobolinks. 

' Tis an ancient quarrel, that. 

Could I take thy squirrel-chat, 
Or thine ears receive my wit. 
Wisely would we argue it. 

Yet shall mighty Truth prevail 

Without me or Shadowtail. 



NUTTING SONG. 



V 




OME hither, come hither, O laddies and 

lassies ! 
The daisies have folded their frills, 
But the purple-eyed asters still peep from the 
grasses, 
And the golden-rod shines on the hills. 
Though the tulips have faded, the maples are 
glowing 
With many a marvellous hue. 
And deep in the woods where the brown leaves 
are blowing, 
The chestnuts are waiting for you. 

We've dreamed of your coming, at even and 
matin ; 
We've dreamed of your coming, at noon ; 



20 BABY BETH. 

In our snug little cradles all cushioned with 
satin, 
While the wind sung our lullaby tune. 
While the wind rocked our cradles, we longed 
for the showers 
And were glad of the sunshine and dew 
That ripened our hearts for the blithe autumn 
hours. 
That sweetened our kernels for you. 

Oh, hither ! come hither ! for keen the stars 
ghstened 

Last night, and the woodlands were crossed 
By him for whose step the wych-hazel bush 
listened 

And the barberries waited, — Jack Frost. 
He rifled our caskets, the prickle-set caskets, 

And earthward the jewels he threw. 
The squirrels are filling their queer little baskets — 

Oh, come ! we are waiting for you. 



BABY BETH. 

OGUISH brown-eyed glances, 
That's our Baby Beth. 
Gypsy-shy advances, 
That's our Baby Beth. 





BABY'S BAGGAGE. 21 

Quaintest little fancies 

Ever borne on breath, 
Frolic-footed dances, 

That's our Baby Beth. 

Sunshine-tinted tresses, 

That's our Baby Beth. 
Dainty bits of dresses, 

That's our Baby Beth. 
Fearless little guesses 

Into life and death, 
Roseleaf-lipped caresses, 

That's our Baby Beth. 



BABY'S BAGGAGE. 

HE train is ready. Come away 
And let your labor cease. 
Mamma has packed three trunks to- 
day. 
Papa, his new valise. 
But as for Little Golden-Locks, 
She only packed a chatterbox. 

The baggage-master touched a cap 

With shining letters decked, 
And so to guard from all mishap. 

The bag and trunks he checked ; 



22 THE SECRET. 

But never stayed for Golden- Locks, 
Or counted in the chatterbox. 



A new official sauntered soon 

In slippers down the cars, 
Who softly hummed a drowsy tune. 

His badge was wrought in stars. 
'Twas Sleep who smiled on Golden-Locks, 
And checked at last the chatterbox. 




THE SECRET. 

HE blossoms whispered the whole night 

through. 
Their cups were as full as they could 
hold 
Of a secret sweet as the honeyed dew. 

" What will you give her ? and you ? and you ? ' 

Nodding their heads as each gift was told. 

The blossoms whispered the whole night through. 

Sighed violets twain — " For her eyes of blue 
We die this night in the moonbeams cold, 
Smiling to Heaven through tears of dew." 



GRANDFATHER'S STORY. 23 

" My pinkest bud is my birthgift true, 
Shy kisses and lisping words to fold," 
The rosebud whispered the whole night through. 

Said a stately lily as ever grew — 

" I yield the leveling a heart of gold ; 

White thoughts enshrine it and holy dew !" 

O Baby Bud, ere your petals knew 
Earth's lightest blemish, my fragrant-souled. 
The blossoms whispered the whole night through 
Of a secret sweet — as sweet as you. 



GRANDFATHER'S STORY. 

STORY ? A story, forsooth ? 
An orange, Sir Sweety-Tooth, 
Or a sugar-plum. 
No, a story? Hum ! 
Grandchildren have no ruth. 
A story I'll give you, in truth. 
'Tis the tribute Age owes to Youth. 

Have you heard of the Great Eclipse ? 
Unless my memory trips, 

It was years ago 

Threescore or so, 




24 



GRANDFATHER'S STORY. 



Yet from mind no feature slips 
Of mother, white to the hps, 
Lighting the tallow-dips. 

For the sun, our primal good. 
Darkened at noon. The brood 

Of roosting fowls 

Dreamed they were owls ; 
And the huddled cattle stood 
Pressed to the bars, in rude 
Wonder at nature's mood. 

Old Rover, gaunt and glum. 
Forgot to be quarrelsome, 

But crouched on the mat 

With the trembling cat ; 
And we youngsters, each with a thumb 
In the eye, flocked awestruck and dumb, 
Or asked : Was it Kingdom Come? 

Then forth from his library nook 
Strode father, grasping a book 

In his right hand still, 

— A shepherd who ill 
Could the slips of the black sheep brook. 
We lambs knew less of his crook 
Than his rod and his fire-flash look. 



GRANDFATHER'S STORY. 25 

Yet now that brow austere 
Unbending, he banished our fear 

By words so wise 

That our saucer-eyes 
Waxed eager to peep and peer 
Through his glass at the troubled sphere, — 
His glass that cost me dear. 

When will the memory pass ? 
Just a poor smoked bit of glass, 

And we must not touch 

The smoked side, — such 
His word while, laddie and lass, 
We stood in line like a class, 
Out in the door-yard grass. 

In that shadow strange and dun 
We blinked at the toiling sun. 

Each chubby hand 

Down the rosy band 
Speeding the glass, till one 
Felt his fumbling fingers run 
On the ground they were bidden shun. 

Alas for the child-heart frail ! 
The finger-marks told the tale. 
" K?/^ the culprit?" "No." 
Down the quaking row 



26 . GRANDFATHER'S STORY. 

Swept question and answer. Pale, 
I denied it, for God might fail. 
And the sun was in a veil. 

Oh, but my father's frown ! 

Not my sisters' sobs could drown 

'Neath my home-spun jacket 

The traitorous racket, 
And I cringed from toe to crown, — 
Poor little bare toes brown 
In the clover burrowing down ! 

He spoke. Still I feel the fright. 
But the air was dusk, like night. 
" Each child as he stands 

Hold out both hands, 
Palms upward." Woe the plight ! 
Yet the stains may escape his sight, — 
Then the sun burst forth in light. 

Never mind the rest. My sire 
Had an arm not swift to tire. 

But, grandson of mine. 

In shade as in shine 
God's truth of your lips require. 
Lest His sun flash out in fire 
And look on you proved a liar. 



IDLENESS. 



IDLENESS. 



27 




S I sat still, as I sat still, 
The milk-weed blossomed on the hill ; 
The lilies opened on the blue, 
Wind-dimpled pool ; and, stored with dew. 
Sailed overhead the cloudy ships ; 
Bees tapped the perfumed clover-tips ; 
The running river fed the mill. 
As I sat still, as I sat still. 

As I stood mute, as I stood mute. 
The wavelets praised the mossy root 
Of beech and willow ; with their lays 
The birds made glad the maple-sprays ; 
The merest insects piped to please 
The bending grasses, and the breeze 
Coaxed to the sun the timid fruit. 
As I stood mute, as I stood mute. 

As I dreamed on, as I dreamed on, 
Full many a gallant fight was won ; 
Full many a noble deed was wrought ; 
Full many a tone of kindness brought 
Its grateful balm to hearts that bled ; 
Full many a deathless word was said ; 
But shadows fell and day was gone, 
As I dreamed on, as I dreamed on. 




28 FAIR WEATHER. 



FAIR WEATHER. 

HE ship had rounded Sandy Hook 
With the blue-eyed peep of day ; 
But while full many a joyous look 
Was straining up the bay, 
On the steerage deck together 

A boy and a woman stood, 
Who shrank from the golden weather 
In wildered, waif-like mood. 

She sighed : "This sun is sair to bide, 

These skies are na the same 
As those aboon the Firth o' Clyde 

An' the hills of our island hame." 
And the flash of the seagull's feather 

Was one with the creaming foam 
Through her tears for the soft, gray weather 

And the brooding mists of home. 

The child laid cheek upon her hand, 
" Hoots, mither ! dinna greet. 
Had I ae shell frae Arran sand, 

An' a burnie, ripplin' sweet, 
An' bracken an' purple heather 

An' a bittie o' blossomin' thorn, 
I wad mak' ye bonny Scotch weather 

To brichten your heart the morn." 



FAIR WEATHER. 

That nestling cheek upon her hand, 

It soothed her tears to smiles. 
She leaned out toward the stranger land 

As to her native isles, 
And said : " Twa hearts thegether, 

Altho' the warl' be rude, 
Can mak' their ain gude weather, 

A' out o' tender luve." 



29 




PART II. 




SANTA CLAUS' RIDDLE. 

F all the happy and holy times 
That fill the steeples with merry chimes 
[J And warm our hearts in the coldest 
climes, 
'Twas Christmas eve, as I live by rhymes. 

One by one had the drowsy oaks 
Wrapt about them their snow-flake cloaks^ 
And snugly fastened, with diamond pins. 
Fleecy nightcaps beneath their chins. 

The stars had kissed the hills good-night, 
But lingered yet, with a taper light, 
Till the chattering lips of the little streams 
Were sealed with frost for their winter dreams. 



And the silver moonbeams softly fell 
On cots as white as the lily-bell. 
Where the nested children sweetly slept, 
While watch above them their angels kept. 



34 



SANTA CLAUS' RIDDLE. 



Eyes of gray and of hazel hue, 
Roguish black eyes and bonny blue, 
All with their satin curtains drawn, 
Peeped not once till the shining dawn. 

But still through the silent eventide 
Brown eyes twain were opened wide. 
Where, bolt upright in his pillows, sate 
A wise little wean called Curly Pate. 

Not yet the lore of schools and books 

Had troubled the peace of his childish looks, 

But through the valleys of Fairyland 

He had walked with Wisdom, hand in hand. 

On midsummer eves he would hear, perchance. 
The shrill, sweet pipes of the elfin dance, 
And their dewy prints in the dawning trace 
On tremulous carpets of cobweb lace. 

He had caught the clink of the hammers fine. 
Where the goblins delve in their darksome mine. 
In green cocked hats of a queer design, 
With crystal tears in their ruby eyne. 

He had seen where the golden basket swings 
At the tip of the rainbow's dazzling wings. 
Full of the silver spoons that fall 
Into the mouths of babies small. 



SANTA CLAUS' RIDDLE. 35 

He had met Jack Frost in tippet and furs, 
Pricking his thumbs on the chestnut burrs, 
And this learned laddie could tell, no doubt. 
Why nuts fall down and friends fall out. 

And now, while the dusky night waxed late. 
All nid-nodding sat Curly Pate, 
Scaring the dreams, whose wings of gauze 
Would veil his vision from Santa Claus. 

And ever he raised, by a resolute frown. 
The heavy lids that came stealing down 
To rest their silken fringes brown 
On the rosiest cheek in Baby-Town. 

Till at last, at last, — so the legend tells, — 
He heard the tinkle of silver bells ; 
Tinkle ! tinkle ! a jocund tune 
Between the snow and the sinking moon. 

Oh, then, how the heart of our hero beat ! 
How it throbbed in time to the music sweet, 
While gaily rung on the frosted roofs 
The frolicsome tramp of reindeer hoofs. 

And down the chimney by swift degrees 
Came worsted stockings and velvet knees, 
Till from furry cap unto booted feet 
Dear Saint Nicholas stood complete. 



36 SANTA CLAUS' RIDDLE. 

Blessings upon him ! and how he shook 
His plump little sides with a mirthful look, 
As he crammed, his bright, blue eyes a-twinkle. 
The bairnie's sock in its every wrinkle. 

May he live forever — the bhthe old soul, 
With cheeks so ruddy and shape so droll. 
Throned on a Yule-log, crowned with holly. 
The king of kindness, the friend of folly ! 

His task was done, and he brushed the snow 
From his crispy beard, as he turned to go ; 
From his crispy beard and his tresses hoar, 
As he tiptoed over the moonlight floor. 

But the sparkling flakes to delicious crumbs 
Of frosted cakes and to sugar-plums 
Changed as they fell, whereat near by 
A bubble of laughter proved the spy. 

Back from the chimney flashed the saint, 
And stamped his feet in a rage so quaint 
That from scores of pockets the dolls in glee 
Popped up their curious heads to see. 

"Oho !" in a terrible voice he spake, 
"By the Mistletoe Bough ! a boy awake ! 
Now freeze my whiskers ! but in my pack 
I'll stow him away for a jumping-jack. 



SANTA CLAUS' RIDDLE. 37 

"Wise as an owlet ? Quick ! the proof ! 
My reindeer stamp on the snowy roof. 
So read my riddle, if sage you be, 
Or up the chimney you go with me. 

"Name me the tree of the deepest roots, 
Whose boughs are laden with sweetest fruits, 
In bleakest weather which blooms aright, 
And buds and bears in a single night." 

Did Curly Pate tremble ? Never a whit. 
Below the curls was the mother-wit ; 
And well I ween that his two eyes brown 
Spied the dimple beneath the frown. 

So shaking shyly, with childish grace. 

The ringlets soft from his winsome face, 

He peeped through his lashes and answered true, 

As I trow that a brave little man should do. 

"Please thy Saintship, no eyes have seen 
Thy wondrous orchards of evergreen ; 
But where is the wean who doth not long 
The whole year through for thy harvest song ? 

"The Christmas Tree hath struck deep roots 
In human hearts : its wintry fruits 
Are sweet with love, and the bairns beheve 
It buddeth and beareth on Holy Eve." 



38 GOODY SANTA CLAUS 

A stir in the chimney, a crackle of frost, 
A tinkle of bells on the midnight lost ; 
And in mirth and music the riddling guest 
Had smiled and vanished, as saints know best. 



But low on his pillow the laddie dear 
Sank and slumbered, till chanticleer. 
Crowing apace, bade children wake 
To bless the dawn for the Christ-child's sake. 



GOODY SANTA CLAUS ON A SLEIGH- 
RIDE. 

ANTA, must 1 tease in vain, Dear? Let 
me go and hold the reindeer. 
While you clamber down the chimneys. 
Don't look savage as a Turk ! 
Why should you have all the glory of the joyous 
Christmas story, 
And poor little Goody Santa Claus have 
nothing but the work ? 

It would be so very cozy, you and I, all round 
and rosy. 
Looking like two loving snowballs in our fuzzy 
Arctic furs, 




ON A SLEIGH-RIDE, 



39 



Tucked in warm and snug together, whisking 
through the winter weather 
Where the tinkle of the sleigh-bells is the only 
sound that stirs. 



You just sit here and grow chubby off the good- 
ies in my cubby 
From December to December, till your white 
beard sweeps your knees ; 
For you must allow, my goodman, that you're 
but a lazy woodman 
And rely on me to foster all our fruitful Christ- 
mas trees. 

While your Saintship waxes holy, year by year,, 
and roly-poly, 
Blessed by all the lads and lassies in the limits 
of the land, 
While your toes at home you're toasting, then 
poor Goody must go posting 
Out to plant and prune and garner, where 
our fir-tree forests stand. 

Oh ! but when the toil is sorest how I love our 
fir-tree forest. 
Heart of light and heart of beauty in the 
Northland cold and dim. 



40 



GOODY SANTA CLAUS 



All with gifts and candles laden to delight a boy 
or maiden, 
And its dark-green branches ever murmuring 
the Christmas hymn ! 

Yet ask young Jack Frost, our neighbor, who 
but Goody has the labor. 
Feeding roots with milk and honey that the 
bonbons may be sweet ! 
Who but Goody knows the reason why the play- 
things bloom in season 
And the ripened toys and trinkets rattle gaily 
to her feet ! 

From the time the dollies budded, wiry-boned 
and sawdust-blooded, 
With their waxen eyelids winking when the 
wind the tree-tops plied, 
Have I rested for a minute, until now your pack 
has in it 
All the bright, abundant harvest of the merry 
Christmastide ? 

Santa, wouldn't it be pleasant to surprise me 
with a present ? 
And this ride behind the reindeer is the boon 
your Goody begs ; 



ON A SLEIGH-RIDE. ^i 

Think how hard my extra work is, tending the 
Thanksgiving turkeys 
And our flocks of rainbow chickens — those that 
lay the Easter eggs. 

Home to wotnankind is suited ? Nonsense, Good- 
man ! Let our fruited 
Orchards answer for the value of a woman 
out-of-doors. 
Why then bid me chase the thunder, while the 
roof you're safely under, 
All to fashion fire-crackers with the lightning 
in their cores? 

See ! I've fetched my snow-flake bonnet, with 
the sunrise ribbons on it ; 
I've not worn it since we fled from Fairyland 
our wedding day ; 
How we sped through iceberg porches with the 
Northern Lights for torches ! 
You were young and slender, Santa, and we 
had this very sleigh. 

Jump in quick, then ? That's my bonny. Hey 
down derry ! Nonny nonny ! 
While I tie your fur cap closer, I will kiss your 
ruddy chin. 



42 



GOODY SANTA CLAUS 



I'm so pleased I fall to singing, just as sleigh- - 
bells take to ringing ! 
Are the cloud-spun lap-robes ready? Tirra- 
lirra ! Tuck me in. 

Off across the starlight Norland, where no plant 
adorns the moorland 
Save the ruby-berried holly and the frolic 
mistletoe ! 
Oh, but this is Christmas revel ! Off across the 
frosted level 
Where the reindeer's hoofs strike sparkles 
from the crispy, crackling snow ! 

There's the Man i' the Moon before us, bound 
to lead the Christmas chorus 
With the music of the sky-waves rippling 
round his silver shell — 
Glimmering boat that leans and tarries with the 
weight of dreams she carries 
To the cots of happy children. Gentle sailor, 
steer her well ! 

Now we pass through dusky portals to the 
drowsy land of mortals ; 
Snow-enfolded, silent cities stretch about us 
dim and far. 



ON A SLEIGH-RIDE. 43 

Oh ! how sound the world is sleeping, midnight 
watch no shepherd keeping, 
Though an angel-face shines gladly down from 
every golden star. 



Here's a roof. I'll hold the reindeer. I sup- 
pose this weather-vane. Dear, 
Some one set here just on purpose for our team 
to fasten to. 
There's its gilded cock,— the gaby !— wants to 
crow and tell the baby 
We are come. Be careful, Santa ! Don't get 
smothered in the flue. 

Back so soon? No chimney-swallow dives but 
where his mate can follow. 
Bend your cold ear, Sweetheart Santa, down 
to catch my whisper faint : 
Would it be so very shocking if your Goody 
filled a stocking 
Just for once ? Oh, dear ! Forgive me. 
Frowns do not become a Saint. 



I will peep in at the skyhghts, where the moon 
sheds tender twilights 
Equally down silken chambers and down 
attics bare and bleak. 



44 



GOODY SANTA CLAUS 



Let me shower with hailstone candies these two 
dreaming boys — the dandies 
In their frilled and fluted nighties, rosy cheek 
to rosy cheek ! 

What ! No gift for this poor garret ? Take a 
sunset sash and wear it 
O'er the rags, my pale-faced lassie, till thy 
father smiles again. 
He's a poet, but — oh, cruel ! he has neither 
light nor fuel. 
Here's a fallen star to write by, and a music- 
box of rain. 

So our sprightly reindeer clamber, with their 
fairy sleigh of amber. 
On from roof to roof, the woven shades of 
night about us drawn. 
On from roof to roof we twinkle, all the silver 
bells a-tinkle, 
Till blooms in yonder blessed East the rose 
of Christmas dawn. 

Now the pack is fairly rifled, and poor Santa's 
well nigh stifled ; 
Yet you would not let your Goody fill a single 
baby-sock ; 



ON A SLEIGH-RIDE. 45 

Yes, I know the task takes brain, Dear. I can 
only hold the reindeer. 
And to see me climb down chimney — it would 
give your nerves a shock. 

Wait ! There's yet a tiny fellow, smiling hps 
and curls so yellow 
You would think a truant sunbeam played in 
them all night. He spins 
Giant tops, and flies kites higher than the gold 
cathedral spire 
In his dreams — the orphan bairnie, trustful 
httle Tatterkins. 

Santa, don't pass by the urchin ! Shake the 
pack, and deeply search in 
All your pockets. There is always one toy 
more. I told you so. 
Up again ? Why, what's the trouble ? On your 
eyelash winks the bubble 
Mortals call a tear, I fancy. Holes in stock- 
ing, heel and toe ? 

Goodman, though your speech is crusty now and 
then, there's nothing rusty 
In your heart. A child's least sorrow makes 
your wet eyes glisten, too ; 



46 GOODY SANTA CLAUS. 

But I'll mend that sock so neatly it shall hold 
your gifts completely. 
Take the reins and let me show you what a 
woman's wit can do. 



Puff ! I'm up again, my Deary, flushed a bit and 
somewhat weary, 
With my wedding snow-flake bonnet worse for 
many a sooty knock ; 
But be glad you let me wheedle, since, an icicle 
for needle, 
Threaded with the last pale moonbeam, I 
have darned the laddie's sock. 

Then I tucked a paint-box in it ('twas no easy 
task to win it 
From the Artist of the Autumn Leaves) and 
frost-fruits white and sweet, 
With the toys your pocket misses — oh ! and 
kisses upon kisses 
To cherish safe from evil paths the motherless 
small feet. 

Chirrup ! chirrup ! There's a patter of soft 
footsteps and a clatter 
Of child voices. Speed it, reindeer, up the 
sparkling Arctic Hill ! 



SLUMBER FAIRIES. 



47 




Merry Christmas, little people ! Joy-bells ring 
in every steeple, 
And Goody's gladdest of the glad. I've had 
my own sweet will. 



SLUMBER FAIRIES. 

USH, my little one ! Hush ! Lie down. 
Mamma will sing, — 
Sing of a boy in a wee white gown, 
Sing of a king with a golden crown, 
A crown of curls on a sweet, small head. 
And a throne as high as a trundle-bed. 
Dear little king ! 

Hush, my baby ! a song I know 

Softer than all, — 
A song as soft as the falling snow. 
And I will sing it so hght and low, 
Baby must listen and lie as still 
As the snow-flakes lie on the quiet hill. 

Where they fall. 

Does baby know, when the day grows late. 

Chilly and dim. 
The slumber-fairies, who stand and wait 
Out in the lane and beyond the gate 



48 SLUMBER FAIRIES. 

Pass over the lawn and open the door 
And steal across the nursery floor, 
Looking for him ? 



Such tiny fairies, with slippers white 

Over their feet. 
Their cloaks are gray as the early night, 
But their caps are lit with a silver light, 
As if a moonbeam were caught, perhaps, 
And cut up small into fairy caps 

Dainty and neat. 

Up the side of the trundle-bed 

Softly they go, 
And over the pillow with gentle tread 
They come to the golden baby-head. 
Under his lashes he tries to peep, 
But before he knows, he is fast asleep. 

Isn't it so? 

For they bind the baby with fairy charms 

Wondrous to tell. 
They loose the clasp of the dimpled arms. 
And smooth his forehead with soft, small palms. 
And draw their cloaks o'er his drowsy ears. 
Till a fairy music is all he hears. 

Pleasing him well. 



FAIRY GUESSES. 



49 




They shade his eyes with a httle dream. 

Where did it grow? 
It grew by the side of the fairy stream, 
Where baby wandereth now, I deem, 
With the slumber-fairies to guide his feet. 
Good-night, dear laddie ! Your rest be sweet ! 

Mamma must go. 



FAIRY GUESSES. 

HENCE do you guess the fairy came? 
Out of the heart of a dear old dame, 
Whose ruffled cap is clouds and skies. 
Mother Nature we call her name. 



Where do you guess the fairy stood? 
Under the shade of an autumn wood, 
Into an aster's dying eyes 
Smiling sweet as a fairy could. 

What do you guess the fairy wore ? 
Her grass-green silk was frayed so sore 
That she hid the rents from the butterflies 
With a tidy, hoarfrost pinafore. 

What do you guess the fairy ate ? 
Out of a curious, cobweb plate 
She tasted in a dainty wise 
A frozen dew-drop delicate. 



50 FAIRY'S LULLABY, 

What do you guess the fairy said? 
When the falHng oak-leaves all turn red, 
When the lonely swallow southward flies, 
'Tis time for fairies to go to bed. 

What do you guess the fairy did ? 
She kissed her hand and down she slid 
Where all the beautiful summer lies, 
Under a snowy blanket hid. 

How do you guess the fairy sleeps ? 

Well ; for whenever her blue eye peeps. 

An old nurse soothes her with lullabies. 

And she will not wake till the old nurse weeps. 



FAIRY'S LULLABY. 

N lily cup I'll nest me, 
From fairy dance to rest me. 
For the silver moon 
Dips low, and soon 
Would the goblins swart molest me. 

But never a gnome will mock me, 
Nor peering toad-face shock me, 
While the wind-elf blithe 
Stands on tiptoe lithe 
By the lily's stem to rock me ; 




FAIRY RIP VAN WINKLE. 5 1 

And the star-sprites lean above me, 
For all the star-sprites love me ; 

In circle fair 

Each holds in air 
His little gold torch above me. 

Come, soft-winged Sleep, and kiss me. 
For the dream-land fairies miss me, 

Till thy sweet, cool lips 

Part the folded tips 
Of my lily-couch to kiss me. 

But when thy spells unbind me 
The sunbeams shall not find me, 

And my dreamy nest 

Be only guessed 
By the fragrance left behind me. 



FAIRY RIP VAN WINKLE. 

IIS acorn cradle with fern and moss 
Elf mamma had covered over. 
And then had forgotten the path across 
The blossoming field of clover. 
For she was the wildest of all wee things, 
And loved to dance in the moonlight rings. 
Or steal her a ride on butterfly wings, — 
A genuine gypsy rover ! 




52 FAIRY RIP VAN WINKLE. 

Streams flow, 

Buds blow, 
Stars peep out and twinkle. 

Still deep 

Thy sleep, 
Fairy Rip van Winkle ! 

But he woke one day and with drowsy eyes 

Smiled into a dewy bubble 
On his cradle edge ; then in swift surprise 

Cried out in a voice of trouble : 
" O mamma, mamma, I don't look right, 
My cobweb nightie has grown so tight ; 
My buttercup curls are daisy white ; 
And over my eyebrows double 
What's this 
Cross-criss 
Funny little wrinkle?" 
Long gazed, 
Amazed, 
Fairy Rip van Winkle. 

For his nap in the acorn had lasted till 

A new oak forest had sprouted. 
And the elves had vanished from mead and rill, 

By the school-book army routed. 
And the ancient baby, whose eyes could see 
Never a toadstool spread for tea, 
Nor lullaby-nurse of a honey-bee. 
Put up his lip and pouted. 



THE WISHING-CAP. 53 

But no 

Tiptoe 
Lily bells went tinkle. 

Bye-bye! 

Doji't cry, 
Fairy Rip van Winkle! 



THE WISHING-CAP. 

LITTLE maid stole to a moonlight 

knoll, 
In the fairy ring to tread ; 
But the dancing fays had gone their ways 
And a gnome was there instead. 

"Brown gnome, please lend me your wishing- 
cap." 

He snatched oiT his small, green hood 
And tossed it to her. " Many thanks, kind sir ; 

You are certainly very good. 

"Seven times one ! And what shall I wish?" 

The gnome sat down on a thistle, 
With his peaked red shoon pointed up to the 
moon, 

And practiced an elfin whistle. 




54 



THE WISHING-CAP. 



" I wish and I wish and I wish and I wish 

That you were as rich as I, 
Little brown gnome, for I've pennies at home, 

And I don't know what to buy. 

" I wish and I wish and I wish and I wish 

My heart were a wild-rose briar, 
Where the bell-voiced veery, when days grow 
weary, 

Leads off the vesper choir. 

^' I wish my heart were a forest brook 

A-ripple with sunshiny laughter, 
Where to quench their thirst shy deer come first 

And the pattering rabbits after. 

" I wish my heart were a golden star 
That guides o'er the creamy foam 

The shimmering sails through whistling gales 
To the harbor lights of home. 

" I wish my heart were a blade of grass. 

Where Katydids all a-row 
Tilt in the sun, singing high deeds done 

Of Katydids long ago. 

" I wish my heart were a rosy cloud 
On the sunset edge of even. 



THE WISHING-CAP. 55 

That tenderly bears the children's prayers 
Through the open doors of Heaven. 

" I wish my heart were as large, as large, 

As large as the dome-like skies, 
There's so much to love, from God above 

To the little gossamer flies." 

Then the lassie gave back the small green hood 

And curtsied to the gnome, 
And the lilies sweet caressed her feet. 

As the glow-worms ht her home. 

The gnome dived under the hard, gray rocks 
To the land where the gnome-folk dwell ; 

A land of gold and jewels untold. 
Hard by the gates of hell. 

But while he sate in his wishing-cap 
On the throne in his diamond castle, 

Squeaked his wee brown wife, in a voice like a 
fife, 
" Why ! there's a tear on the tassel ! " 

And never a pearl from the Indian seas. 

Nor emerald cold and clear, 
Shed such a light through those caves of night 

As the little gnome-king's tear. 




56 BABY HAZEL'S VOYAGE. 



BABY HAZEL'S VOYAGE. 

ING NOD, King Nod, the drowsy god, is 
such an idle fellow, 
He sleeps away the livelong day, while 
yet the sun is yellow ; 
But when the sinking sun is red and robin's song 

is failing, 
'Tis time for him to rub his dim old eyes and go 
a-sailing. 

His moonshine boat is soon afloat ; a glow-worm 

serves for pilot ; 
On silver oars they graze the shores of many a 

starry islet ; 
In silver sails they catch the winds, and down 

the cloudy billows 
Full fast they ride before the tide to Baby Hazel's 

pillows. 

" Ahoy, sweet maid ! Now art afraid, with Old 

King Nod for skipper, 
To sail the deep and drink sweet sleep from 

yonder golden dipper? 
Aboard, aboard, my dainty lass ! aboard my 

silver vessel ! 
And thou shalt see, in dream-land tree, the little 

dream-birds nestle." 



WIDE A WAKE AND FAST ASLEEP. 57 

She bowed — ah me ! — her rosy knee, and kissed 
the old king's sceptre. 

Unto his breast the child he pressed and down 
the darkness swept her. 

Oh, frail the skiff, the silver skiff! O Hazel 
Eyes, take warning ! 

On Sunrise Reef 'twill come to grief. Good- 
night, good-night — good-morning ! 

WIDE AWAKE AND FAST ASLEEP. 

(One Side of the Qiiestion.) 

BLITHE Summer Day came out of the 

east, 
And a rare little lad was he. 
His lips were red from a strawberry feast, 

And his eyes were blue as the sea. 
His yellow hair was blown by the breeze. 

Like grass in a windy place. 
He had torn his jacket in climbing trees, 
And he laughed all over his face. 

He danced in the elm, on the leafy spray 

Where the nest of the oriole swings, 
Till the birdies had winked the sleep away 

All under their gleaming wings. 
He shook the stems of the lihes tall, 

While they nodded in soft surprise 
And rubbed with their fingers white and small 

The dreams from their golden eyes. 




58 THE SUN OUT OF TEMPER. 

The daisy hastened to wash her face 

In a drop of the crystal dew, 
And each green leaf of the woodland lace 

The kiss of the sunshine knew. 
The squirrel chattered and combed his tail 

That curls up over his spine, 
And the pinkest clover turned almost pale 

When the village clock struck nine. 

For two little boys in two little beds 

Lay dozing the morning long, 
Though the sun shone in on their tangled heads 

And the birds had ended their song. 
" O dear ! O dear ! " sighed the Summer Day, 

" What lazy small boys I see ! 
I wish — I wish they would wake and play 

With a bright little Day like me." 



THE SUN OUT OF TEMPER. 

(The Other Side of the Qiiestion.) 

H ! I say and declare that it's really 
not fair 
For the Day-Star to call me so 
soon ! " 
Cried the Sun, very red, as he jumped out of bed 
And made up a face at the Moon. 




THE SUN OUT OF TEMPER. 59 

So he climbed the blue skies with his thumbs in 
his eyes 

And his hair tumbled over his head, 
And he gave a great yawn in the face of the Dawn, 

Which was very bad manners, she said. 



Then the Sun was ashamed to hear himself 
blamed, 

And being ashamed made him cross. 
So he withered the wheat with his arrows of heat 

And trampled the dew from the moss. 
And he fumed and he fussed till the toad in the 
dust 

Did envy the frog in the pool 
And swore he would doat on a pond-lily boat 

Much more than a mushroom stool. 

The flowers were faint, the trees made complaint, 

And the little leaves teased for a drink, 
But the Sun only stared, for all that he cared 

Was to glower with never a wink ; 
Till it happened one day that the World went 
away, 

The World and his Wife to remain 
A week and no more with their Aunt by the 
shore. 

Said the Sun, "It is time for a rain." 



6o THE LITTLE KNIGHT IN GREEN. 

Said the Sun, "I repent, and my anger is spent. 

I must cry seven days at the least." 
So he tied up his head in a shabby white shred 

That he tore from a cloud in the east, 
And he stirred him a broth from the fogs of the 
north 

To save him a pain in the side. 
And then he sat down in a dismal gray gown. 

And oh, for the cry that he cried ! 

Sobbed the penitent Sun, " I have only begun. 

I shall shed many tears for the loss 
Of my temper. I'll shiver and cry like a river, 

I'm so sorry I ever was cross. 
But my patience was tried and the cause I'll 
confide, 

That early birds all may take warning, 
For in summer 'tis true my hot temper is due 

To my rising too soon in the morning." 



THE LITTLE KNIGHT IN GREEN. 

HAT fragrant-footed comer 
Is stepping o'er my head? 
Behold my Queen, the Summer, 
Who deems her warriors dead ! 




THE LITTLE KNIGHT IN GREEN. 6 1 

Now rise, ye knights of many fights, 

From out your sleep profound ! 
Make sharp your spears, my gallant peers. 

And prick the frozen ground ! 

Before the White Host harm her. 

We'll hurry to her aid. 
We'll don our elfin armor, 

And every tiny blade 
Shall bear atop a dewy drop, 

The lifeblood of the Frost, 
Till from their King the order ring, 
"Fall back ! the day is lost ! " 

Now shame to knighthood, brothers ! 

Must Summer plead in vain? 
And shall I wait till others 

My crown of sunshine gain ? 
Alone this day I'll dare the fray, 

Alone the victory win. 
In me my Queen shall find, I ween, 

A sturdy paladin. 

To battle, ho ! King Winter 

Hath rushed on me apace. 
My fragile weapons splinter 

Beneath his icy mace. 



62 THE LITTLE KNIGHT IN GREEN 

I Stagger back. I yield — alack ! 

I fall. My senses pass. 
Woe worth the chance for doughtiest lance 

Of all the House of Grass ! 

Last hope my heart gives over. 

But hark ! a shout of cheer ! 
Don Daisy and Count Clover, 

Lord Buttercup are here. 
Behold ! behold ! with shield of gold 

Prince Dandelion comes. 
Lord Bumblebee beats valiantly 

His rolling battle-drums. 

My brothers quit their slumbers 

And lead the van of war. 
Before our swelling numbers 

The foes are driven far. 
The day's our own ; but overthrown, 

A httle knight in green, 
I kiss her feet and deem it sweet 

To perish for my Queen. 



PART III 





CHILDREN'S SUNDAY. 

ING out, sing out in the golden weather, 
Sweet birds on the nodding sprays ; 
Sing, wren and robin and thrush to- 
gether, 
Till the greenwood ring with praise. 

Drop your song to the daisied grasses 
And the clovers stored with wine ; 

Fling it forth on the breeze that passes 
The marsh where the marigolds shine. 

Hide it deep in the red-Hpped mosses 

With the crystal dew-drops wet ; 
Cast on the wings of the moth that crosses 

The haunt of the violet. 

Sing out, sing out till the hillside flowers 

And the ferns of the valley know 
That I seek, thro' the sunshiny, June-tide hours 

The bonniest buds that blow. 

O queen of the wildwood, rose of the briar. 

Wilt thou quit thy gypsy halls 
To sway in the breath of the chanting choir 

And garland the chapel walls? 



(£ CHILDREN'S HYMN. 

O columbine, forfeit the bee's caressing ; 

Peep forth from thy leafy nook ; 
Thine head shall droop in the solemn blessing 

And shadow the Sacred Book. 

For to-morrow, the pearl of the jewels seven, 

Is the whitest in all the year, 
When the angels lean from their seats in heaven 

To beckon the children near. 

Up the winding path, where the church-crowned 
hill is, 

Shall we set our footprints small, 
And flock to His courts, who loved the lilies 

And noted the sparrow's fall. 

Who calls not only hearts grave with duty 

And eyes with sorrowing dim. 
But the little children, in life's first beauty. 

Suffers to come unto Him. 



CHILDREN'S HYMN. 

IS the month the roses spill 

On the breeze their hoarded scent ; 
Carols clear the robins trill. 
Peeping through a leafy tent. 
Blossomed sprays, wildwood lays, 
Help us voice our Sabbath praise. 





CHRISTMAS CAROL. 67 

He, who once on earth below 

Loved the liHes of the field, 
Heeds the roses drooping low 

P'or the fragrance that they yield. 
But our prayer up the air 
May a sweeter perfume bear. 

He, who taketh tender note 

Of the falling sparrow, sees 
How the robin's ruby throat 

Swells with tuneful jubilees. 
But our song floateth strong 
Far above the forest throng. 

For the Lord, when bird and flower 
By his grace were amply blest, 

Granted as the children's dower 
Larger hearts to love Him best. 

Fair the sprays ; sweet the lays ; 

Love alone is perfect praise. 



CHRISTMAS CAROL. 

ALMLY the Syrian starlights glisten 
Far on the valleys and mountain-bars. 
Why do the shepherds rouse and listen ? 
Stirs an anthem among the stars? 



68 EASTER LILIES. 

Joyous melodies thrill and quiver. 

All the air is with music rife, 
Sweet as the flow of the crystal river 

Under the shade of the Tree of Life. 

Swells the song till the night is holden 
Rapt in gladness and awe and love ; 

Splendors amethyst, rose and golden. 
Shed from an arch of wings above. 

Soft as a silver mist retreating 

Soar and vanish the seraph throng. 

Rainbow plumes still earthward beating 
Fainting strains of the far-off song. 

Fade, bright wings, on the purple even ! 

Wane, oh glory, from hill and mere ! 
Hence that beautiful song of Heaven 

Earth shall sing, while the angels hear. 



EASTER LILIES. 

ENT is past, and the lihes blow. 
Beautiful Easter lilies ! 
White as the flakes of Christmas snow. 
Beautiful Easter lilies ! 




THANKSGIVING NIGHT. 69 

White as the wings of a wandering dove, 
White as the saihng clouds above, 
Pure on your petals the sunbeams glow, 
Beautiful Easter lilies ! 



Oh ! were our hearts but purged of sin, 

Beautiful Easter lilies ! 
Grace like yours might our spirits win, 

Beautiful Easter lilies ! 
Christ arisen, from heaven above, 
Be the light of Thy holy love 
Shed on our souls like sunshine in 

Beautiful Easter lihes ! 




THANKSGIVING NIGHT. 

HE merry guests, who feasted long 
And filled the day with laughter. 
Have said farewell ; and even-song, 
Sweet mother, cometh after. 



I meant to count between my prayers 
My blessings, but their number 

Is very great ; and, unawares. 
My eyelids droop with slumber. 



7o 



THE EMPTY ROOM. 

The stars God lighted wax not dim : 

His angels never falter, 
Whose voices chant the happy hymn 

Around his holy altar. 

But I am such a httle child 

That often, after playing, 
Beneath thy kiss my lips have smiled. 

And slept, instead of praying. 

Perchance the Lord, whose hand did press 

My hours so full of pleasure, 
Heard in my mirth the thankfulness 

My words unfitly measure. 

His peace lies on my childish mood, 
Like dew on meadow daisies : 

I gave my joy for gratitude. 
And Hft my love for praises. 

THE EMPTY ROOM. 

IS a fable of the East, 

Oft by grave-eyed merchants told, 
Resting for their frugal feast. 
Dates and fountain-water cold, 
Underneath the shadow calm 
Of the palm. 




THE EMPTY ROOM. 

Once a sage of sages, bowed 

By the griefs of many years, 
Led two young disciples, vowed 
Unto truth beyond their peers, 
To an empty room. Surprise 
Lit their eyes. 

Unto each he gave a coin, 

While they waited, fain to do 
What the master might enjoin. 
Tremulous his words, and few. 
"Spend the gold and fill the bare 
Chamber there." 

Sped the first with eager feet 

To the gay bazaars and bought 
What he deemed most rich and meet. 
Woods and stuffs full deftly wrought ; 
But not all their costly grace 
Filled the space. 

Musing deep in earnest breast. 

Through the mart his fellow passed 
And a candle bought : the rest 
Of the gold as alms he cast ; 
For the room his candle bright 
Filled with light. 



71 




72 SANDALPHON'S ROSEBUDS. 

Quoth the sage : " By this once more 

Teach I, ere my voice is still, 
Vanity of earthly store. 
Only Allah's love can fill 

These our empty hearts. I cease. 
Go in peace." 



SANDALPHON'S ROSEBUDS. 

N the herald hush of even, 

Spent with ecstasy of praising. 
From the pearl-wrought gate of heaven 
Angels twain were earthward gazing, 
And their speech, each to each, 

Was a wordless music- flow ; 
And the love-light of their eyes 
Thrilled the sunset-colored skies 
To a clearer glow. 

Whist ! they cease their soft conferring, 

Rapt in looks of gladsome greeting, 
For the lower air is stirring 

Under wings of ample beating ; 
And behold ! plumed with gold 

Mounts Sandalphon, he who bears 
Mystic blossoms to the throne. 
Blossoms that on earth are known 

As the breath of prayers. 



THE RAINBOW PATH. 73 

Swift they scan with earnest glances 

All his sheaf from twilight hour, 
Lilies white of saintly trances, 

Sorrow's purple passion-flower ; 
But the smile dawneth while 

Calm Sandalphon tenderly 
Shows his rosebuds, gathered where 
Children lift the voice of prayer 

hX. a mother's knee. 

Brightly smile the angel faces, 

Knowing well how earth-freed mortals, 
Bearing still life's battle traces. 

Pressing through those pearly portals, 
Fleet of tread, fragrance-led. 

Shall in God's own garden find 
All the folded buds abloom, 
Roses shedding sweet perfume 

On heavenly wind. 

THE RAINBOW PATH. 

HE rain it rained a weary while. 
But when the clouds took flight. 
The setting sun flashed back a smile. 
(Good-night, dear sun, good-night !) 
And from the far horizon's breast 
An arching rainbow sprang to rest 




74 



THE RAINBOW PATH. 



Its hither tip on mountain crest, 
A bridge of colors seven. 

Rainbow, 

I know 
Thou art the path to Heaven. 

The flowers that smiled by April rills 

And made the summer bright 
Have faded from the autumn hills. 

(Good-night, dear sun, good-night !) 
But blossom -spirits sweet and fair 
Are wafted by the gentle air 
To bloom above in beauty rare 

And weave the colors seven. 
Rainbow, 
I know 

Thou art the path to Heaven. 

And when along that gleaming way 
We fare in sandals white 
Beyond the golden gates of day, 
(Good-night, dear sun, good-night !) 
We'll kiss the blossoms as we go. 
And think how on the earth below 
They lit the fields, ere called to glow 
Within the colors seven. 
Rainbow, 
I know 
Thou art the path to Heaven. 






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